When Bretta had left Dirtmouth, up over towards the Cliffs, she'd been propelled forward by an energy of purpose she hadn't felt in a long time, if ever. She was going to take her life into her own hands, change everything, live.

Now, though, it had all gone out of her life like a punctured fungoon. She'd made it through the Pass and even descended the far side of the Howling Cliffs with the only major incident being a couple vengeflies trying to corner her near a spike pit. But when she'd reached the border of the kingdom, she hadn't been able to go any further. The spot had been just more empty plain, but as she moved forward the air had thickened and the wind picked up and a slight tension headache set in, and when she'd sat down for a break, the dust had settled to show she hadn't gone any further than when she'd started. And she'd tried it several times in different spots until she'd had to collapse from exhaustion in a shallow cave. When she woke she gave it one more attempt. That failure was what finally made her break down.

How was she ever supposed to find her life's companion now?

Bretta didn't have any way of keeping track of how much time passed, but when she stood up, she was sore (or well, moreso than when when she'd woken from sleeping on the ground). There was the other side of the valley Dirtmouth rested in, with an elevator to the crystal mines she'd watched her- she'd watched be used. But she wouldn't, couldn't go back to the town. Even if it was just to pass through, being seen itself would be an admission to failure.

She headed for the caverns. This way would be longer (especially if she got lost, since she didn't have any maps (she could have some, but again, she'd have to go to Dirtmouth)) but that would just give her more time learning to take care of herself before she found her someone (and plenty of time to get lost in herself again, whispered a small voice in her she tried to ignore). Everything would be fine.

xxx

Several days later (from what she could tell without a reliable method of tracking the time) and she had to admit she'd gotten turned around in one of Greenpath's thorn mazes. She was tired and scraped up and trying very hard not to cry from frustration as she climbed between rocky outcroppings above another acid pit.

With a screech, a squit dove at her, barely missing as she rolled to the far end of the ledge.

"Oh, leave me alone!" she cried, wishing she could just curl up and wake in her own bed. As it went for another dive, she tried to hit it away, only succeeding in getting a long, shallow gash in her arm. She yelped something very unladylike as her vision blurred.

In desperation, she jumped down to the lowest outcropping. At the edge, she waited for the squit, ducking out of its path at the last second.

Its momentum sent it directly into the acid, where it dissolved with a nauseating hiss.

The victory didn't give her even fleeting satisfaction, only more exhaustion. She groaned, trying to talk herself into starting the climb up (all over again), when something large moved above her out of the corner of her vision. With a yelp, she lost her grip, falling back down. It wasn't too far, but she landed wrong, foot twisting under her.

A gasp, and then, "No, no it's alright! I'm not going to hurt you! It's alright; stay there." In a moment, a bug leaned over the ledge above to look at her. "Are you hurt?" they asked in a softer voice.

"I'm fine," she snapped, suddenly boiling over inside. To prove it, she got up. A sharp pain went through her as she stepped with that foot, and she reached for the wall. But then as soon as she could, she made to climb again.

"You have to know it's dangerous here even for the most skilled bug, especially if you're injured."

"I said-" Her hand slipped again, but before she could fall, something grabbed her arm, steadying her.

It was the other bug, leaned far out but able to just reach her. "If you really want me to leave, I will." They sighed at her glare. "There's no shame in being helped, you know."

Easy for them to say. But, she knew she wouldn't easily get far by herself, and gods, she was too drained to deal with this anymore. "Okay," Bretta mumbled.

It was still a pain climbing to the top, but not much slower than her initial ascent.

When they got there, the bug sat down beside her. "I'm Sheo, by the way." He extended a hand.

"Bretta."

His grip was much the same as when he'd been helping her: firm, but gentler than she'd expected, given his size. She also noted the flecks of paint dotting his arm, his cloak, even a few across his forehead.

"My home isn't too far from here," he ventured, talking to the open air. "It's not much, but if you wanted to rest, and we could see to your leg…"

She swallowed the lump in her throat. "Yeah, that would be good."

xxx

By the time they got there she was limping, leaning against Sheo and biting through the pain. It had been the right decision, even if admitting it left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Once inside, he'd immediately sat her on the couch. He started to look over her ankle, was interrupted by the entrance of another bug, who he introduced as Emil, his partner, and then there were two bugs fussing over her.

She couldn't remember the last time someone had shown this much concentrated concern toward her. Iselda had given her a once-over checkup when she'd returned to Dirtmouth, and Elderbug talked to her every once in a while, but that had been about it.

This should have made her warm, and comfortable, and safe. And it did. Problem was, it also inspired needle-pricks of irritation. She wanted to sink into the moment, and kick out and yell at them to leave her alone.

Eventually, it spilled out into a gasped sob.

Sheo, who'd just started bandaging her arm, froze. "Is that too tight? Or did I bump into something?"

She shook her head. Even if she could talk without it cascading into a breakdown, she wouldn't know what to say. Instead she just pushed her arm back at him.

For a moment, he looked at her. Then he murmured, "As long as you're sure," and kept going.

It was infuriating. Soon after, she dissolved into full crying anyway; Sheo paused momentarily again and Emil got her a handkerchief, but otherwise they just didn't comment on it.

When Sheo brought her something for the pain and told her she should wait a few days before she really used that leg, she wanted to run away. Instead she nodded and waved offers of anything else away to be left alone, ostensibly to sleep.

Of course, they made sure she was physically comfortable on the couch, with a number of blankets, before they did.

Bretta had expected to lie awake stewing in her own misery, but instead she fell asleep so fast she barely remembered rolling onto her back to stare at the ceiling.

xxx

When she woke up, she felt a lot better – minus her leg, which gained soreness with consciousness. But with more medication and the hot breakfast Emil brought her, even that was lessened.

"Thank you," she said, more into her cup than anything. "You know, for everything."

He smiled. "It's no trouble at all."

A little while later, Sheo came over to check on her, giving her a crutch he'd made so she could at least get around some, and showing her a couple of light exercises.

Shortly after she finished with that, she dozed off again. This time when she got up she sat with them to eat dinner, which meant either she'd slept long this time, or it had been a late breakfast for her.

"So I was thinking," Sheo began. "If you're going to stay a while longer, would you want something more of a space for yourself?"

Bretta hid her wince. "Um, that does sound nice, but… I kinda figured if you had an extra room you would have offered, and I don't want to take your space."

"Well…"

Emil laughed, badly disguising it as a cough.

And that was how she ended up in the back hallway looking into what could be a small but serviceable bedroom...had it not been filled with every type of crafting supply or material imaginable.

"I only had a vague sense of direction when I changed paths in life." Sheo looked to the side, rubbing the back of his neck. "I knew I wanted to create, but beyond that it took a while to figure out." A short sigh. "It won't be much, but I can at least clear some empty space and we can set you up a hammock or all the cushions and blankets you like."

"And if we need more, we can make them." Emil's eyes crinkled in amusement as he pointed out the shelves bursting with fabric.

Sheo bristled minutely. "I spent almost a month on that particular fascination, and it would be a waste to get rid of that much perfectly useful material."

"I'm only teasing," he murmured. "After all, I've certainly been making good use of your sculpting supplies." Leaning over, he kissed the side of his face.

Bretta looked down, trying to keep her expression neutral, despite knowing they weren't looking at her.

Sheo let out another sigh, warmer this time. A few moments later, he said, "What do you think? The option's up to you."

Apprehension gnawed lightly in her gut, but she nodded.

xxx

Her makeshift 'nest' did end up quite comfortable, once set up. Having a door to close on the rest of the world, though: that ended up even more valuable the next day. She got up, had breakfast (left for her, because despite getting up what she'd thought to be much sooner, it was apparently still later than their normal), and went through her exercises. It was hard to tell if/how much she was getting better, which meant definitely not fast enough for her.

At a loss for what to do after that, she wandered into the main room. Sheo and Emil sat on the floor around the low table: Sheo drawing out some preliminary guidelines on a canvas, Emil carving a figurine identical to several others on the table – tall thin suits of white armor.

It was Sheo who noticed her first. "Ah, feel free to join us. There's plenty of, well, anything, and as long as you know a tool well enough not to break it or hurt yourself, you're welcome to use it."

"Uh, okay." She stood there for a moment, brain empty. This was exactly how she liked to spend her time normally; the apprehension had to be from the unfamiliar situation. Knowing she'd freeze up if she actually went to look and decide with all of the options, she grabbed a sketchpad and sat on the couch.

She sat awkwardly for a minute, not used to doing this in front of others. But they paid her no mind, contently absorbed in their own activities so she made herself relax.

Warmups. Those would help. She went through her usual routine, loosening her body, if not her mind, until the whole page was filled with marks from the exercises.

Then she flipped to the next page. Normally, this was when she would launch right into drawing, ideas pouring out of her. But this time, there was nothing.

It chilled her. Of course, she had artistic difficulties like anyone: accidentally ruining a project, the frustration of the gap between what she could picture and what her skill level could actually produce – but the last time she hadn't felt inspired had been-

Before she'd ventured underground. Before she'd been rescued and found muse in her white savior, before that had soured, and before her ill-fated obsession with her grey prince.

And in that time, those two had been the only subjects of her creation. What had she even done before then?

A sour, acidic taste in her throat, she let her drawing hand fall to the side. She made herself breathe evenly. It didn't have to be some grand work, she just needed to pass some time. Basics. Pick something you can see, sketch it as well as you can.

Her focus returning to her surroundings, she noted the other two in a low conversation as her gaze swept across the room. There was plenty to choose from, between structure and furniture and all the old items scattered about.

She'd done a few hesitant lines for an oversize mask on a shelf when out of the corner of her eye she saw Emil lightly kiss Sheo.

It was like her lungs had instantly been flattened. She couldn't move, couldn't think.

And then she ran to her room, slamming the door shut and burrowing under her blankets.

xxx

She stayed in there until late, when hunger finally overpowered embarrassment. And once again, they were so kind, asking if there was anything they could do that would help, giving her space.

It was the same the next morning. Everything was fine, great even – the only thing wrong was her, wretchedly ungrateful, a scream building inside her until finally she couldn't contain the toxic pressure in her anymore.

Heedless of her surroundings, she barreled outside, going until she hit the cavern wall. Burying her face in the moss, she finally let herself scream.

Once that had died down to shuddering gasps, she fell to her knees. She grabbed at some of the overgrown foliage, first in leaves and vines and clumps. Then, as she started to work herself up, digging into the ground, uprooting whole plants.

It sated something in her nothing else had. Through sporadic tears, she kept going.

She was yanking at a moderately-sized bush when Sheo walked into her view.

The branch she held broke free, sending her toppling backwards.

He got over to help her just as she sat up herself. "I would prefer if you could let that one stay in the ground."

That jostled her out of it for a moment. She stared at him.

"I know you can't really tell anymore, but, I had started gardening at one point. Everything grows so well here, I thought it would be useful." He sighed. "Unfortunately that also applies to weeds. I left it a little too long once, and, well...it never really recovered."

Bretta looked around at the destruction she'd indiscriminately wreaked so far, flushing slightly.

"It's alright! A lot of what I originally planted has gone to seed anyway, so it would benefit from starting over. The ones with the tiny pink flowers are definitely weeds, if you-"

Irritation like a single lumafly waking in darkness. She turned away and went back to ripping things up.

Enough time passed that she would've thought he might have left, but then he spoke. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"About what?" Her voice went high up enough at the end to crackle. She yanked a couple more plants. Then, she murmured, "I don't want to give you any more trouble."

"I'm sorry," he said softly, "I couldn't quite hear you."

"I said I don't want to-" she shouted, and flinched. "You've been so nice, and I'm being dumb, and I don't know how to say it without sounding horrible."

"Then say it with whatever words will be most accurate, and I'll keep that in mind."

She stared down at a lone tuft of grass she'd missed. "I…" she tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it stayed there. "You two are so perfect together, so… so happy. And that's good!" she added hastily. "But then I keep thinking about when I thought I'd found someone like that, and it was like a dream." Arms curled around herself, she rocked slightly. "But it wasn't, it was all wrong, they were lies and I… I- I left because I thought I could fix things, but everything's gone wrong and I guess I just can't… I'm not-"

For a while then, all she could do was sit there and cry.

When she finally opened her eyes, he was sitting near but not next to her. Posture open but neutral, looking parallel to her vision. "I'm flattered you think of us like that, but we're far from perfect. It's taken a lot of work for us to get here. The good kind of work," he added, glancing over at her, "but none of it happened on its own. Neither of us was used to living with someone else, for one. And...we have our own burdens from our lives before to work through."

Sheo took a long, slow breath. "It'll be a bumpy road in the future at times, too. That's how life works. Unfortunately, no matter how happy you are, that's something you need to keep in mind or you'll set yourself up for even more future hardship."

She sniffled. Oh, so once again she messed things up with her silly little ideas. That was just like her, wasn't it.

"Which doesn't mean you should beat yourself up about the past. It's a hard lesson to learn." He placed a hand on her upper back. "Besides, it sounds like that wasn't the only strain on your relationship. I'm not sure if I understood this correctly, but your partner was lying to you?"

"Uh…" Panic, like ice in her veins. "It wasn't quite…" She clasped her hands together. "I've never actually been in a relationship."

And so she started to explain, haltingly, beginning with her getting stuck underground. As she spoke, she picked at a branch that had been sitting by her, first plucking off leaves, then tearing each of those into tiny bits. She described the fluttering feeling she got anytime her white wanderer came near, the way they made her heart and mind race.

She talked about her drawings of them, slowing as she described everything she'd made, stopping mid-sentence about leaving her story out for them to read.

"Oh gods," she whispered, realizing how it sounded now that she was saying it out loud. "What is wrong with me?!"

She buried her head in her arms. If she was the kind of bug who could burrow, she would've disappeared into the ground and never come back. Never talk to another bug again.

But no. She was stuck here. Eventually she was going to have to look up and face Sheo (she was so painfully acutely aware of his not having left. Why?)

After what felt like an eternity, she did.

Sheo was watching her, but with relaxed posture and a far kinder look than she ever would've imagined. "I'm not going to lecture you, especially since it seems you're doing plenty of that yourself." He stared off into the distance, let out a long, deep sigh. "Besides, I can't say I never did anything similar when I was your age."

"You… what?" Of all the things she'd expected, this was not one of them.

"There was a…" he rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, he was a knight, who I was...rather enamored with, when I was younger. At first I insisted it was a role-model sort of admiration, but I'm not sure anyone but myself ever believed that." His voice almost tipped into a laugh. "And as for art, well," he waved his hand. "I stumbled on some that I'd forgotten about recently. That part doesn't necessarily get less embarrassing, unfortunately."

She thought about her house in Dirtmouth, where she'd left behind everything she'd made for anyone to see, and winced. Perhaps she would sneak back some time, just to get rid of it.

"...I suppose I could say at least he never knew about my feelings, but that was simply because I was stopped before I could actually send any of the letters I had written. So in what you could call the worst part of it, the difference between us was that you didn't have anyone else around, which is hardly your fault."

Tears welled up in her eyes "I- I guess." She wasn't sure how much she thought he meant that versus saying it to make her feel better, but it was working. A little.

He hummed briefly, standing. "We can keep talking, if you'd like, but perhaps now would be a good time to head inside, get a little more comfortable?"

She nodded, took his hand, and followed him back to the house.

xxx

Things got a little easier after that. The next day, Sheo dug out his gardening supplies from an outside shed, setting her up properly to renovate the garden. It was exhausting work, but mostly physically, and the good, satisfying kind that let her sleep easy. Her ankle's improvement was slow, still, but at least noticeable.

And sometimes, for meals or just when she wanted a break, Bretta sat inside with Emil and Sheo and listened to them tell stories of their pasts as a Nailsmith and Nailmaster (which, collectively, certainly explained the few nails in the corner of her room and strewn occasionally around the main area). Sheo recounted bits of his training with his brothers and the brief time he spent traveling outside Hallownest; Emil talked less, saying he rarely paid attention to much outside his work, but occasionally shared details of some of his more eccentric clients. They even encouraged her to join in, but she declined, saying she hadn't done anything interesting enough to be story-worthy. Which was true, although actually thinking of it like that didn't help how she felt about herself. Fortunately they didn't press her about it, moving on in the conversation.

Her heart still hurt, in quiet moments. She still ruminated, over the past and what might come of her future. But for now, at least, it was easier to bear.